Have her take in all of me.
Because I am Veil Vulturine and Ibelonghere.
After a few quick, centering breaths, I begin my very first performance at Animus in front of a crowd of hundreds. Gemini has been advertising my new act for the past week, and I can feel the anticipation thrumming in the air. The elite rubbing elbows with the bourgeoisie; some are dressed to the nines while others are dressed in simple, casual clothes. All here to see me.
The trapeze becomes an extension of me, the music fast but moody as I lose myself in my well-rehearsed routine. I ride the high of such a feat, and it reminds me how much I used to love the stage. It reminds me of how free I felt when I performed back in Corutio.
Unknowingly, Gemini has given me exactly what I needed to remember myself.
Halfway into my act, my gaze lands back on Gemini. He’s still watching me, but his attention is split, his body leaned to the side as a man I don’t recognize whispers into his ear. He’s delicately placed his hand on Gemini’s thigh, and the jealousy suddenly coursing through my veins is all-consuming.
It burns until I myself am split in two. The one performing onstage and the one whose sole focus is on the man touching what ismine.
The music ends. The audience erupts in a cheer, and I pretend to take in the applause, smiling widely and bowing.
But my eyes are pinned on the man, now laughing at something Gemini said. But Gemini’s eyes are still locked on mine, and I feel like I’ve been dunked into boiling water. The man’s body is leaning forward, lanky fingers now trailing up and down Gemini’s arm. They appear intimate, like they’ve shared private laughs before.
I can barely breathe. I smell blood.
Knowing I can’t stand here any longer without the crowd starting to question my lingering presence, I exit the stage with a clenched jaw and a pounding heart.
I don’t bother retiringto my changing room. Instead, I charge through the backstage corridors and ignore the congratulatory yips from fellow circus performers.
My brain is on fire.
And only one thing will quell the burn.
Turning a corner, I finally spot them. Constantine is walking with her pink crutches in front of the duo. She spots me first and must see something she likes in my expression because her face lights up, her mouth open in excitement.
The corridor is crowded enough that I have to weave through a few bodies before reaching them. Gemini has followed my trajectory the entire time, a quiet grin on his lips, and a minute and rational part of me wonders if this was all on purpose.
But I don’t care.
“Beloved,” Gemini says when I appear before them like an enraged animal.
His casual tone only manages to pour gasoline on my already-raging fire, and I send him an icy glare before yanking his cane out of his grasp.
I’m half aware of people giving us a wide berth as I swing the stick backward before slamming it down on the man’s head with a loud crack. He didn’t see it coming, too busy making doe eyes at Gemini, and crumples to the floor.
When he goes down, I jump atop him. The sight of the first bloody split of his forehead is as satisfying as a warm bath. I hit him with the cane again and again as if I’d never tire of this kind of senseless violence. I break his nose and bloody his eye and lips before taking the stick with two hands and jamming the tip into his throat, crushing his windpipe. I feel the faint splatter of blood land on my burning cheeks.
Then I stop.
With the cane raised above my head while I straddle the wheezing, gurgling man.
I take in the spoils of my rage.
And I feel … nothing for him.
Only a vague satisfaction for exacting my revenge.
I begin to take in the sounds around me, as if slowly returning to my body. I can hear gleeful laughter, and somehow, I don’t need to look up to know it’s Constantine. I could never forget the sound of her laugh, even in a moment like this.
Then someone begins a slow, deliberate clap, and I lift my head to find it’s Gemini.
“There you are, Veil Vulturine,” he says, his eyes sparkling with pride as he tongues his cheek in victory.
My gaze flicks behind him, and I find Zazel staring at me with such disgust that I barely recognize them. Their face is devoid of familiarity, as if regarding a stranger. A stranger who justbludgeoned someone for the pettiest of reasons. We hold eye contact for a few loaded seconds before they turn and walk out of the backstage corridor, taking with them my old life and friends.
